Shadow Play
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Once you sever a shadow no amount of thread will ever constrain it again. A shadow knows no restraint, no patience or propriety. It only knows of wanting and taking.


It certainly hadn't been his idea of a nice afternoon but Belle had pleaded with him ever-so-gently and wearing that rather short leather skirt that made thinking difficult so he'd just said yes in hopes it'd lead to both of them acquiescing some more and rather loudly. It had, but it'd also meant that he'd signed his Friday afternoon away to the Charmings and their sincere wish to have them over for tea.

He dressed in his lightest suit- a dark grey- and tried not to ogle Belle too much as she came down the stairs in a midnight blue dress, with a daring neckline but a prim hemline to contrast it. He admired her matching pumps all the way to the Charmings's house, thinking of how lovely they'd look carelessly tossed on a corner of their bedroom later in the evening.

The Charmings had moved recently from Miss Blanchard's flat to a proper home, the saviour staying with the apartment and sometimes sharing it with Henry, when he wasn't with his other mother, or his son, when he wasn't sleeping at the B&B to try and pretend he wasn't carrying on with Snow White's not-so-white daughter once more.

They arrived too soon for his liking, crossing the white picket fence and sticking to the stone path even though a part of the imp wanted nothing more than to leave the imprint of his shoe all over Charming's too-green grass. The princess greeted them enthusiastically, seeming to enjoy playing house even if she had to contend with the Dark One to do it. Charming patted him on the back rather forcefully, grinning at him like they'd never held conversations from between prison bars.

Soon enough they were settled in a nice little parlour, enjoying passable tea and lacklustre conversation. Belle artfully managed the later, steering away from anything that had to do with the management of the town no matter how much the princess insisted on bringing it up. Though friendly and engaging his true love made it very clear who was in charge and whose input was neither needed nor wanted unless they made an appointment or raised the issue during a town meeting. Rumple was more than content to simply settle comfortably against his chair and watch his Belle display her sharp mind beneath a frothy veil of pleasantries.

He let his mind wonder after a while, looking at some point behind both Charming and his wife, both seated in armchairs wide apart. In his mind he began to plan the evening ahead of them, a nice supper, some excellent wine and small talk while cuddling close on the sofa. At some point he'd begin to lightly trace the neckline of her dress, so open and inviting. He'd let his fingertips glide whisper-soft against her skin, after first barely distracting her. Her neck fascinated him so he'd direct his attention there next, lightly caressing her throat and the gentle slope that connected with her shoulder. She'd begin to pant, almost unnoticeably at first, a small hitch only ears as keen as his could ever catch. Then, slowly, her breathing would deepen, each exhale louder than the last. If he concentrated he fancied he could hear it already, hours away from the actual seduction.

At some point he realized he could actually hear it, not in his imagination but in reality. He glanced towards Belle, legs primly crossed at the ankles and a cup of tea held in her lap. She appeared the picture of demure beauty except that he could see the tell-tale signs of a blush blooming across her cheeks and sliding down her neck. He frowned imperceptivity, concern spreading across him. Belle caught his eye and smiled, clearly wanting to put him at ease. If something was truly wrong she'd tell him.

Trying to distract himself from his love's deliciously-laboured breathing his eyes once again drifted to the back wall behind the Charmings. Since their parlour was dreadfully arranged the windows were directly behind him and Belle, open to let the cool spring air and the afternoon light. That meant his and Belle's shadows were starkly cast upon the wall, well-defined and... sentient.

He did a double take when he noticed his shadow move without him doing so, bending close to the shadow-Belle's neck, as if sniffing her. One of his hands was lost somewhere in Belle's collarbone, clearly stroking the skin there and it was no wonder that the real Belle was slowly turning red as a rose. Subtly he flexed the fingers of his right hand, suddenly feeling as if he was caressing something warm and smooth.

He schooled his features, making sure he was in complete control of his facial expression before redirecting his attention to his shadow, gleefully carrying on as if they weren't in public. It had never behaved quite the same after he had reattached it to his body, but they got along well enough for it not to be a problem. This, however, was the first time it felt the need to molest his love's shadow, inching his lips close to her ear and muttering something that, from the way it smirked afterwards, was sure to have been positively filthy.

"Did... did you say something, Rumple?"

He took his eyes away from the wall at once, almost forgetting the teacup perched on his lap and scalding himself.

"Nothing important, sweetheart."

Once everyone stopped looking at him he went back to starting at the wall, glaring at it more accurately. His shadow self, completely awake now if the slight glow of the eyes was any indication, seemed quite unrepentant, his focus solely on his true love's shadow. He went down on his knees, nuzzling shadow-Belle's knee softly, his hands gliding up and down her calves. Beside him he heard the real Belle shift in her seat, uncrossing and crossing back her legs subtly. Her shadow, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same iron-grip on her composure. She was leaning against the back of the chair, head thrown to the side and back arched, one of her hands stroking the shadow's hair. It made no sense that Belle's shadow had sentience as well, but, somehow, his own shade had freed her.

He certainly seemed to be reaping the benefits of such an accomplishment, his hands venturing beneath the hemline of her dress and getting lost somewhere in the heaven of the shadow's thighs. His own hands burned with the phantom feeling of the touch, with heat that he knew intimately. His body reacted against his will, blood rushing to all the wrong places as the prince and princess talked about the new herb garden they'd started on the backyard and how hopeless Snow was with it.

"David, however, has quite the green thumb."

Fascinating, truly fascinating, if he wasn't more concerned with where his shadow's thumbs were. The way shadow-Belle's hips shifted closer to the edge of the seat and her mouth opened in a silent scream gave him a pretty good idea, but Belle's moan beside him confirmed it. She seemed surprised by it, trying to mask it as a sound of appreciation for Charming's butter cookies- just as his mother used to make them, apparently. But, delicious as they were they were certainly not the reason why Belle was gripping the teacup and saucer on her lap so tightly Rumple feared she might break them in two. She was biting her lip, too, and pressing her thighs together, her back ramrod straight and her eyes slightly glazed. He cursed his heightened senses, product of his curse, because he could even smell her and it wasn't helping matters at all.

Shadow-Belle didn't seem to mind the turn of event, parting her legs for her lover just as her counterpart firmly kept hers closed. The hemline of her dress was promptly raised, her hands fisting on the fabric as her love cupped one of her breasts firmly.

"Belle, dear, you look a bit hot. Do you feel alright?" Snow frowned, setting her cup on the coffee table between them. "Do you need Dr Whale?"

The Hell she needed Whale, he almost snarled aloud. That two-bit charlatan was getting nowhere near Belle while she smelled like that and was flushed all over. His shadow-self seemed to agree vehemently, pulling shadow-Belle close so that she was forced, quite happily, to wrap her legs around him. He didn't know whether to be angry about that of approve it wholeheartedly.

"No, I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just the afternoon sun on my back."

Belle, fortunately, was the consummate doe-eyed liar. He was sure she could say the most outrageous falsehood possible but get away with it with her lilting accent and long-lashed stare. He seemed to be the only one aware of how she fidgeted in her seat and fought to maintain her composure.

"Do you wish to move? We could get away from the sun easily."

The fleeting panic in her eyes told the imp that moving was not an option for his True Love. He could hardly blame her, seeing as he was in a similar situation. Finding a position that wouldn't give him away to the Charmings became of paramount importance, though that didn't seem to slow down his shadow any. He'd tugged his love's dress down her arms, pushing the nude bra- or whatever passed for that for shadow-Belle- aside to bare the shade's breast to his yellowed stare. He contemplated it for the longest time- Rumple could relate, having spent his fair share of lazy hours contemplating his former caretaker's naked body- seeming almost reverent. Then, when shadow-Belle tugged on a lock of his hair impatiently, he moved again, taking her nipple in his mouth. Beside him Belle inhaled sharply, hands fisting on the skirt of her dress, her cup and saucer now safely on the coffee table. He fought to lick his lips, knowing he'd find the faint trace of her on them.

It became patently obvious at that point that whatever was going on had more of an effect on Belle than on him. Everything felt muted to him, as if he was somehow numb, but his true love seemed to be experiencing things more acutely. It made a strange sense, in a way. Belle had never been disconnected from her shadow, they were both still deeply intertwined. In contrast no amount of thread would ever return his shadow and himself to their original state. Proof if it was currently taking place all over the Charmings's off-white wall. The shadow was making good use of the surface, his mouth worshipping one of Belle's breasts while one of his hands did so with the other. The other hand was on Belle's back, supporting her as she arched shamelessly into her lover's caresses. There was something undeniably erotic about watching the scene as a spectator while a clueless Charming went on and on about fertilizer and the vegetables that were in season. It added a layer of taboo to the already-questionable situation, particularly given the oblivious smiles Mr and Mrs Charming were giving him.

The shadows shifted once more. Somehow his shade had gotten Belle's dress off as well as his suit jacket and pants. How that was possible he had no idea but he couldn't deny that on the wall Belle's shadow was completely naked and lying down, hovering in thin air. His shadow self took his time running his hands over her nubile body, tracing curves the imp was all-too-familiar with, lingering in the places he himself preferred. A glance at Belle let him know that she'd caught sight of the shadow theatre over the wall and was struggling not to gape at it, eyes wide and red lips enticingly parted. Watching her watching them was even more arousing, if such thing was even possible at that point, but he could tell she wasn't enjoying the experience as much as he was, struggling to hold on to her composure in front of the monarchs.

Her whimper when his shadow self sunk two fingers inside her own shade filled him with both pity and desire. Suddenly it seemed silly to sit around the Charmings's parlour and exchange inane pleasantries while he could be home fucking Belle senseless over and over till neither could move. His resolution to leave as soon as possible, and the knowledge that Belle was likely miserable and desperate and needed him, made it easier to focus on cooling himself down so that standing up was a real possibility. He made vague, completely unconvincing excuses regarding an urgent matter that needed Belle's and his immediate and undivided attention. He helped his True Love up, a surge of male pride spreading across his body when she stumbled on wobbly legs and had to lean on him for a second. On the wall his shade and his companion continued their debauchery, each thrust of his fingers into her core making the real Belle hold on to him tighter, all but hiding her face on the crook of his shoulder.

They made their hurried goodbye to the increasingly-suspicious pair of royals, taking one last look to confirm that yes, his shadow was still happily sullying their walls. Once the door was locked Belle all but launched herself at him, standing on the tips of her toes to be able to reach his ear.

"Either you transport us back home now or I'll be removed from office for having sex in a public street come Monday."

A tiny part of him thought the later sounded like a solid plan but the rest of him liked Belle in power too much to give her up. He let his magic engulf them, realizing his pretty love had to be rather desperate to plead for him to use his powers, and in the blink of an eye they were home, alone and free to tear each other's clothes off. It was clumsy and desperate and perfect as it was the kiss Belle initiated, all teeth and tongue and frenzy. When he dared slip a hand beneath her skirt he had to bite his tongue so the pain would keep him from coming because his sweetheart was wetter than he'd ever felt her, her lacy underwear soaked. He made quick work of it, the scrap of fabric barely putting up a fight. They made it as far as the living room before falling on the bearskin rug by the unlit fireplace. Getting Belle nude was ridiculously simple, the dress easy to slip off and the mild weather guaranteeing no hosiery whatsoever. She disposed of her bra while he still struggled with the many layers his love seemed so fond of, wondering if garter sleeves were worth it when they robbed him of precious seconds of intimacy with the most gorgeous woman in all the realms.

He was shimming out of his pants, half on top of Belle and trying hard not to look down lest he forgo his coordination altogether, when she grabbed onto a stray lock of his hair and tugged to get his attention.

"Light the fire, Rum. Please."

It made no sense. Spring was feeling generous this year, the temperature staying around sixty-seven degrees all day long. A roaring fire would make the room stifling hot and serve no purpose whatsoe-

_Oh_.

"Do you really want it Belle?" He couldn't keep the hopeful awe from his voice. She nodded, cheeks flushed and eyes alight.

"Yes."

It was easy to conjure up a fire with no heat, its light casting their shadows on the opposite wall. His shade didn't waste any time, bending over the taste shadow-Belle's neck. The real noblewoman arched beneath him, moaning low as she dragged her nails across the rug. He set his own mouth to work on her chest, tasting her skin thoroughly, savouring the thin sheen of sweat there as well as the vanilla of the lotion she used. His hands settled on her hips as his teeth lightly scraped her side. She squirmed beneath him, all nervous energy and overstimulation, keening and sighing, quite obviously enjoying being able to vocalize her approval of his ministrations. She told him haltingly how strange it felt to feel him all over, both the shadowy touch and the real one, saying that it was almost too much but also not enough and that they were both killing her. Her nails found the soft skin of his back and she scratched him there, deep and slow in punishment for not giving her what she wanted and torturing her with foreplay.

Both his shadow self and he seemed to come to a silent agreement, settling between Belle's legs. He summoned a cushion to place beneath her to better angle her hips before sinking into her, moaning in relief. He felt almost too much at once, the sensation amplified compared to other times. He set a brutal pace, prompted by Belle's breathless pleas of "Harder" and "Faster" and "Oh, God, there, _yes._"

After a while the overstimulation was too much, but orgasm seemed to elude them both. He turned his head to the side, watching as his shade caressed one of Belle's legs before propping it up over his shoulder, doing the same with the other one. Shakily he followed suit, groaning when the change in position allowed him to thrust deeper. After that it was all a blur of sensations, breathless whimpers and warmth. He forced himself to open his eyes and focus when he felt the coiled energy inside her shatter. Her dainty toes curled and her nails dug into whatever part of him they could reach, the pain just what he needed to reach his own orgasm.

The aftermath found them both exhausted and out of sorts, muscles loosened and hair damp with sweat. The imp rested his head right above his love's breasts, almost purring when she began to stroke his hair idly. He tangled his legs with hers, one hand splaying across her belly, simply wishing for more skin-to-skin contact. Later on he'd try and find out more about constraining his shadow's free will, very aware that he couldn't very go about his daily routine while his shade insisted on pawing at Belle's own. At the moment, however, he was finding it difficult to worry too much about it.


End file.
